


A Tinkling of Jades

by winterune



Series: Natsume Week 2019 [5]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Angst and Feels, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Reiko deserves happiness, Reiko deserves love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterune/pseuds/winterune
Summary: Reiko is 14 years old, and on one lone afternoon after a fight with three boys from a neighboring town, a woman approaches her and asks for her help.
Relationships: Natsume Reiko & Other(s), Natsume Reiko/Original character(s)
Series: Natsume Week 2019 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1409632
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	A Tinkling of Jades

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of my entry for last year's NatsumeWeek Day 5 Prompt: Identity/Personality.  
> I have posted my original entry on my tumblr (link in profile if you want to see it), but I decided to rewrite it if I ever want to post it outside of tumblr, because it was poorly written and, well, Reiko deserves happiness. So, here it is, my second take on the prompt. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

“Dear girl, can you help me with this?”

Reiko looked up from kicking a pebble or another in that lone path between rice paddies. A woman was standing behind her, overloaded with plastic bags that seemed to carry all sorts of vegetables and fruits. Reiko stared at her, then around her. There was no one but themselves. 

_ A youkai?  _

It was not impossible. In a small town deep in the mountains like this, there were stretches of untouched lands teeming with those supernatural creatures. One of these places was just located beyond that line of trees behind them—an ancient wood where gods and monsters lived. Reiko wouldn’t put it past them to disguise themselves as humans to scare her, put a prank on her, bother her, or, worse, coax her to come with them so they could suck the life out of her. In fact, they had done so in the past, though they had never succeeded in taking her life; Reiko would have hit them before they had gotten anywhere near her. But now, Reiko was not in the mood to play along with them when her body hurt and ache in every movement after being beaten and kicked by three boys from the neighboring town.

When Reiko didn’t say nor do anything, the woman said, “My house is just up ahead around the corner.” She nodded toward the neighborhood up ahead— _ her _ neighborhood. Either she was telling the truth, which meant the woman had to have known, or even heard, about her, or these  _ youkai  _ really knew how to pose as one. “I’ll treat you to some delicious watermelons,” the woman went on. 

If she  _ were _ telling the truth, why would she even ask for Reiko’s help? Reiko had heard of the rumors about her: that unruly, problem child; always getting into trouble one way or another. People usually avoided her, and yet this woman just stopped and asked for her help. Surely, she had to be mistaken!

Look at herself! Reiko had cuts on her arm and her knuckles were raw. Her hair disheveled and her lip cut, she had a scrape on her forehead and a bruise on her cheek. Her clothes were in disarray. Her body was battered. She hadn’t even had the energy or will to brush off the dirt—had just figured she’d go home looking like that and endured whatever punishment her foster family would give. She had even thought they wouldn’t care enough to punish her. They might just glance at her and, noting no broken bone or permanent damage, leave her be.

But then the woman smiled, as though coaxing a child with a candy—as though  _ watermelons  _ were enough to coax anyone. As though she didn’t see Reiko’s entire being as repulsive. But it was such a human smile, one so sincere that she thought a  _ youkai  _ couldn’t pull off. 

Well, there was no harm done. Maybe this woman  _ was _ a human, in which case, maybe she didn’t even know her. Reiko  _ could  _ follow her, and in the case where she did anything funny, one hit from Reiko could knock her out cold. Otherwise, Reiko would find a house, and she could just drop her groceries, have a watermelon or two, and be on her way again.

So, Reiko nodded, and walked over to the woman. She grabbed a couple of the plastic bags, which held bottled drinks and milk and various other snacks. She did notice a watermelon there, so at least the woman wasn’t lying about that. 

Reiko noticed the woman’s stare at the bruise on her cheek. She immediately ducked her head to avoid any questions and immediately walked toward the neighborhood. The woman didn’t press the subject as she fell into step beside her. 

“My husband’s coming back home from the city,” the woman said casually, as though Reiko had asked about the unusually large amount of groceries. “He’s working there in some big company and he comes home every few weeks or so. He asked me to come with him, but I refused. We have kids here and, well—” The woman shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like moving to the city.”

Reiko nodded absently, even as her mind was fixated on that one phrase:  _ we have kids here _ . Well, at least that meant the woman was indeed a human. But, how old were these children? What if they knew her?

But what the woman said next shattered her train of thoughts.

“You’re the girl living with the Yamamoto, right?”

Reiko froze mid-step. Of course!  _ Of course _ she would know! The rumors about her had quickly spread. She didn’t know how it started, but one day, Reiko was walking down the road to school when she felt the stares and heard the whispers. 

The woman, who had gotten several steps ahead, turned around and looked at her. Reiko was almost too afraid to meet her gaze. What would she find there? Disgust? Fear? Contempt?

_ Pity? _

What she did find, however, was something she would never have imagined seeing. Something soft, and warm. A crinkle around her eyes and a smile. Not pity. No. Reiko had seen what pity was like. It was the eyes her foster father had given her when he took her in, despite his wife’s constant refusal to take care of her. It was the eyes her teachers made when they saw her coming to school with a cut or a bruise. It was how people saw someone else getting bullied, while not having the power or will to stop it.

This was not a pity. This was something else. And it made her feel warm and full that she wanted to cry.

“Come,” the woman said. “Let’s get those wounds treated.”

* * *

“You can put that there,” the woman said once they had reached her house (yes, there  _ was _ a house) and were dropping the groceries in the kitchen. It was a small kitchen, in a small house. There had been photographs hung on the wall or set on top of tables and drawers—pictures of a woman and her husband with their two children, a boy and a girl. Judging from those photos, her children should be younger than Reiko, though they might have been taken years ago.

She really shouldn’t linger too long.

After placing the groceries down on the table in the kitchen, Reiko lightly brushed her hands against her skirt, feeling self-conscious at how dirty and bloody she was. She had glimpsed the nameplate by the gate. It had said Harada.

“If that’s all, Harada-san,” she began, already backing away toward the door.

The woman looked up from sorting through her groceries and looked as though she suddenly remembered something. “Ah, right! The watermelon.”

Reiko watched, wide-eyed, at the woman who had gone to the refrigerator and took out a plate of sliced watermelon. That was not what she had meant! 

“My children love this, so I always have some spare—”

“No, that’s all right,” Reiko said, cutting her across. “I’ll go home now, Harada-san.”

She hoped her smile was sincere as she bowed her head. She  _ was _ feeling sincere. She was thankful. This was probably the kindest gesture she had ever received from anyone, but it was enough. The warm smile and this simple act of accepting Reiko into her home was enough. She couldn’t take any more. She was afraid this sort of happiness would have some kind of repercussions. 

Harada-san didn’t say anything for a long while. When Reiko finally straightened her back, she was surprised to see her pursing her lips.

Had she done something wrong?

But the woman only sighed quietly. “Just let me treat your wounds, then,” she said. “We don’t want it to fester.”

“That’s—” Reiko began, but Harada-san immediately cut her across.

“I will not have a young girl go out my door looking like that.” And without waiting for a reply, the woman left the kitchen.

Reiko’s shoulders sagged. Left in the kitchen by herself, Reiko didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t sure what just happened. Maybe she should leave. Now, before Harada-san came back. But something inside her told her not to do that.

There was a chair by the table with the groceries and Reiko sat on it.

Harada-san returned not long after, carrying her first-aid box. She dragged a chair in front of Reiko, sat down, and laid the box on the table, opening it to reveal all kinds of medicine, antiseptics, and gauze. They had one of these in her home, but Reiko rarely used it. She didn’t know if she  _ could _ use it. She would usually buy some herself whenever she needed them.

“Now, stay still, all right,” the woman said.

Reiko did, then winced when Harada-san dabbed a damp gauze to the scrape on her forehead and cleaned off the dirt. She scowled but said nothing else. All the while, Reiko stared at her lap. She wasn’t used to this—this kind of gesture from other people. The woman had said not to let the wounds fester, but maybe that was what Reiko had wanted. To  _ make _ the wounds fester so her foster family had no choice but to send her back to the orphanage. Because, sometimes, living in that house felt more suffocating than she had ever felt living in the orphanage.

“What’s your name?” Harada-san asked as she cleaned Reiko’s hands.

“Natsume,” Reiko replied. “Reiko Natsume.”

Harada-san smiled. “Reiko. Such a beautiful name.” Reiko kept staring at her lap, at the way the woman’s hands worked to clean off dirt and debris from her wounds. “How do you write it?”

Reiko shrugged. “However you like. Doesn’t really matter. I just write it in  _ katakana _ sometimes.”

Harada-san glanced up to meet her eyes, but Reiko avoided them. She went back to her hands.

“How old are you, Reiko?” she asked instead.

“Fourteen.”

The woman nodded. She put down the damp gauze then started applying salve onto Reiko’s wounds, starting from her forehead.

“You know,” she started to say. “I saw you once. Right after you moved in, I think. It was a day like today—orange sky, empty streets. I saw you helping a little girl find her doll. She just came out of the forest, crying, when you appeared and immediately tried to soothe her. Not long after that, you went back inside the forest. I would have gone to her too, but you got there first, and when I asked, she said she lost her doll.”

Reiko listened quietly. She didn’t remember it, to be honest. It had been months since she moved there.

The woman paused. “Do you hate your name, Reiko?”

The question was so unexpected that Reiko almost jerked her head up, resulting Harada-san to apply the salve too hard, causing Reiko to hiss in pain. After much apologizing and calming down, Reiko stared at her lap again, wondering the meaning behind the question. She had never really thought about it, though she had come to associate it with unpleasant things.

The name meant different things to different people. It was a name her foster family found annoying; a name her classmates feared; a name many people scorned. Reiko Natsume, the trouble kid living with the Yamamotos, getting into fights and bullying other kids.

If she could, she would change her name. 

“I don’t exactly  _ hate _ it,” Reiko finally said.

“But you dislike it,” the woman concluded. Reiko finally met the woman’s eyes, and she smiled knowingly. “Hearing all the things I’ve heard about you, I can’t blame you if you want to change your name. Heck, you might even want to be nameless. Because of your name, you’ve been treated to some unwarranted violence, and I don’t only mean physically.”

Reiko felt her throat closing up. No one had ever talked to her like this before, addressing all the things she had to endure.

Harada-san’s smile grew soft. “Care to tell me what happened?”

There was something in that woman—in her eyes or smile or gesture—that made Reiko want to tell her everything. She told her of the indifference and ignorance she felt at home. She told her of the scorn and fear she was subjected to at school. She told her of the rumor that had somehow made her into the bully that she wasn’t, and of the three boys from a neighboring town asking her for a fight because they had thought she was a fighter. And that was what she had given them, because she would not back down when someone looked down at her. And she had taunted them and said they were a coward for fighting a girl three against one, and that had resulted in a hit to her face, a kick to her stomach, and a pebble thrown at her head.

But of course, Reiko couldn’t tell her everything. She couldn’t tell her of the things she could see that the woman could not. She couldn’t tell her of the  _ youkai _ problem she often had, which no one cared about, when in fact that was the source of everything that had ever gone wrong in her life.

Harada-san listened intently, even as she continued to apply more salve onto the cut on her lip, her arm, and hands.

“For one thing, I’m glad you said they were cowards,” was her first reply, and, again, it was so unexpected that Reiko burst out laughing. Harada-san chuckled. “For another, I wish you wouldn’t let them get to you.” That made Reiko pause. “When you do, that means they’ve won. But I know that’s not who you are.” She was finally finished applying the salve and had now sat back on the chair, a small smile gracing her lips. “When I see you, Reiko, what I see is a strong, spirited young woman, and I wish the world can see that.”

She put the gauze down then started cleaning up the kit.

“No matter what they call you, Reiko,” she said, “no matter what they say, to me you will always be the caring girl I saw helping that little girl find her doll.”

Reiko was having a hard time swallowing past a lump in her throat.

“If it’s any consolation, my doors will always be open for you.”

Her eyes were wet. She tried to blink them away and asked for a pen and paper. The woman, tilting her head in confusion, stood up and left the kitchen for a few moments, before returning with a piece of paper and a pen. Reiko thanked her, then wrote the  _ kanji _ she had so rarely written except to write her name on school test papers.

She had never understood what it meant. Maybe it had no meaning at all—the child born under the tinkling of jades. But when she wrote it down, Harada-san looked at her and smiled so bright that Reiko started to think that maybe her name wasn’t as bad as she had thought.

“It’s beautiful,” Harada-san said, and Reiko found herself smiling back. 

**~ END ~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it :) I'm not fluent in Japanese, and I'm not sure how her name is written in the manga (if it's in kanji or katakana), because the Natsume Yuujinchou wiki page, and a couple other pages, have her name written in katakana, but I also found 玲子 written in Reiko's page in the Natsume wiki. My source of Japanese translation is jisho.org, where it translates 玲 (rei) as sound of jewels; tinkling of jades; clear, translucent, brilliant, sweetly ringing (as the tinklings of jade); while 子 (ko) means child. This is why I choose to have the meaning of her name as 'child born under the tinkling of jades'. I do apologize if this translation is wrong. 
> 
> Please leave a comment or two if you like. I would love to know what you think :) thanks!!


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